When Death is Dead
by VodkaSunflowersAndIce
Summary: Kid has an important question for his dad. But just what brought this thought to his mind? One-shot.


His opponent was fast—shockingly fast. Usually Kid didn't have much difficulty when fighting, even with an asymmetrical opponent. Now that he thought about it, he could even bring himself to destroy a perfectly symmetrical opponent, though he had to be very careful and precise with his attacks to keep his opponent symmetrical, or else he couldn't bring himself to destroy it.

He was a good thinker, fast on his feet, strong, but this opponent seemed to be even faster, but just by a bit. How long had he been fighting? Liz and Patty had to be tired out by now and he was starting to feel a little tired himself, but he had to finish this. Who wanted to disappoint their father? Surely not him.

He forgot the name of this opponent, only that his father had him sent out to kill them, or at least weaken them enough to the point where they would never be a problem again. So far, so good, he thought.

But then something happened.

One shot fired. He pivoted on his left heel to fire the next from his opposite hand (he timed it just right) and the bullet he'd aimed at the wall ricocheted and hit his original target the moment the other bullet did, exactly and inch apart and seven inches into his opponent's torso. Or at least he thought.

The opponent was fast, as he'd mentioned, but maybe he hadn't timed it _just right _this time around. The opponent's twin sword clashed together (in perfect symmetry, might I add) and the bullets flew off, landing in the wall on his left and right. He'd have to try a different tactic than shooting, since it seemed to be useless right now.

He tossed the guns from his hand (damn, they didn't land at the same time _and they were an inch apart!_) and then lunged forward. His plan was to grab the hilt of the opponent's swords and turn them, stabbing him in the stomach. But something was not right.

His opponent moved at the last second. Weaponless, shocked, and left in the open, Kid turned, hoping to block or counterattack—but the swords went straight into his gut. He could feel the metal sticking out on the other side of his body.

_Oh damn… is this it?_

He felt the blades pull out and the pain set in. He didn't bother thinking about the symmetry or asymmetry of the wounds—it hurt too much. The opponent stepped back and Kid fell forward, catching himself at the last second.

He was shaking. It was hard to breathe. He wanted to put a hand to his gut to feel how bad the wound was but he was still paralyzed with shock. When another wave of pain hit him, he fell forward. He could hear Liz and Patty screaming behind him, but they sounded distant and far off, as if they were yelling from outside the building.

He heard the girls fighting. They must have tried to help him and his opponent had attacked. He managed to pull himself to his hands and knees and started shakily crawling to the wall nearby. He froze when pain hit him and convulsed, blood pouring from his mouth with bile stinging his throat. He gasped at the abnormally large puddle of blood beneath him.

He shook off the fear for a moment and started crawling again, cringing when his hands landed in the blood. He convulsed only a second time on his way, and there was much more blood that time, but he ended up by the wall, thank god.

He could barely see the bloodstain on his dark jacket and yanked it open. He let out a choked scream when he saw the immense stain in his white shirt. Two, four-inch, vertical slits sat at the center of his gut, nearly half and inch across, and still gushing blood. He glanced up at his opponent.

Liz and Patty were out cold in the corner. He must really be a good fighter. Kid felt rage boil up over the pain for a split second and shouted, "Leave them be, you bastard! I'm the one you want, clearly! Finish what you started!" He coughed up more blood and felt the rage die, feeling fear and shock replace it again.

His opponent smirked and raised his swords, twisting them suddenly. Kid felt excruciating pain shoot through his nerves, up his spine and into his toes, tingling all over like fire. He screamed and thought he saw Liz start to stir, but it would be too late if she did. His opponent twisted again and Kid didn't bother screaming now. Instead he felt his consciousness slipping away.

When things went dark, the pain returned.

He shot up, screaming. He felt sick and he was sitting in a pool of warm, thick liquid. He was dressed all in white and saw red staining his clothes. Was he sitting in blood? Then it hit him.

Death's heir has died.

What happens to him now?

He didn't see the tall, black figure approaching him, too immersed in his thoughts to look around. When he looked up, he saw his father. The usually passive skull was grimacing, frowning, as if Kid had done something terribly wrong and was about to get a huge punishment. He'd seen his dad like this before. It happened every so often. But even still, he was terrified. The feeling emanating from Lord Death wasn't like it usually was. Kid couldn't pinpoint it, but he knew it wasn't right.

He lifted a hand from the sticky blood surrounding him and reached out for the reaper in front of him, shaking again. He mentally scolded himself for that, and then spoke.

"D-Dad?"

Pain shot through his gut again and the two cuts returned. Blood began to appear but instead of pooling in one spot like it should have, it started flowing straight up. Kid was frozen in shock again. The dark red column rose for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds, and then shot down.

Kid felt warmth invading his nose, mouth, ears, eyes, and any open pore the liquid could find. It started burning, setting his lungs and stomach on fire as it travelled. He looked over and managed to catch a glimpse of his veins beginning to burn through his skin before everything turned red.

He woke up screaming. Liz and Patty jumped from their seats nearby and ran to his side, asking him questions like mad. He ignored them for the time being.

He was alive? How? He'd have to ask his father later. He reached under the white medical sheets and pulled up his surgical gown to glance at his gut. He went pale when he saw it.

It wasn't a nightmare. It was real. Two large, four-inch, vertical slits with a width of half an inch laid where they had before that hellish experience. The only differences were that they were cleaner and stitched. He started shaking again, against his will.

"Kid?" he heard Patty ask. And then everything went dark.

"And that's why I want to know what would happen to me if I die in battle," Kid concluded, glancing up at his father.

Lord Death's head was tilted to one side, as if contemplating the story. He let out a thoughtful hum before straightening.

"I'm sorry, Kid, but I honestly can't tell you,"

"And why not?"

"Because I'm not sure what would happen,"

That wasn't enough for Kid. But at least he had some peace of mind now.

"Now then, about that Pharaoh?"


End file.
